


The Sorcerer's New Clothes

by i_claudia



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Hats, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-21
Updated: 2011-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-05 21:32:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_claudia/pseuds/i_claudia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is sulking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sorcerer's New Clothes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for old_blueeyes and originally posted on LJ [here](http://i-claudia.livejournal.com/65643.html?thread=1640299#t1640299). (21 January 2011)

Merlin is sulking.

Arthur knows this because Gwen keeps looking at him with a worried frown that nevertheless manages to express the fact that she thinks this is somehow all _Arthur’s_ fault, which Arthur takes offense to. He also knows it because no less than three different servants have sent him reproachful looks, because Gaius had raised his eyebrow at Arthur in a particularly reproving way this morning, and because Merlin had spent the entire feast glaring at the table, fleeing the moment courtesy allowed.

Honestly, Arthur thinks with a sigh. He’d thought the episode with the hat was bad enough, back when Merlin was new and didn’t think he was allowed to refuse anything Arthur asked. Well, Arthur amends, thinking, back when Merlin didn’t think he was allowed to refuse Arthur _as much_. Some days Arthur wonders why he keeps Merlin around at all.

Well, fine, so there is the whole interesting issue surrounding the fact that Merlin, despite being more pathetic than a wet kitten when Arthur tries to teach him how to hold a sword, can raze entire cities to the ground, but that’s something Arthur doesn’t care to think much about.

He knocks on the door to Merlin’s chambers and waits until he hears the thump of something—he’d guess a boot—hitting the wood before he walks in.

“Go away,” Merlin says, churlish, and throws the other boot at Arthur from where he’s curled up on the bed. He doesn’t have very good aim, Arthur thinks; that’s something they’ll have to work on.

“No,” Arthur tells him, and sits on the bed next to him. Merlin rolls away.

“I’ll you into a toad,” he threatens, but Arthur only chuckles and pokes his shoulder.

“And yet here I am, still a man.”

“A worm?” Merlin tries, but Arthur’s finished taking off his own boots and is rolling over to curl up around Merlin. Merlin wiggles away, but Arthur still has a good few stone in muscle on him, and holds him easily. “Go _away_ , I hate you.”

“You don’t,” Arthur says. “And it’s undignified to sulk.”

“I am not sulking,” Merlin protests, freeing an elbow enough to jab Arthur in the ribs. Arthur adjusts his grip accordingly.

“You are sulking,” Arthur says. “You’ve been sulking all week, and everyone thinks it’s _my_ fault.”

Merlin sighs theatrically, and struggles for a moment more before giving up. “It _is_ your fault,” he tells Arthur. “It is all your fault, for making me wear that hideous outfit.”

“It’s not so bad,” Arthur insists, because it really isn’t: it’s a lovely robe made from black velvet, and the tailors had worked for weeks over the embroidery, and fine, maybe it made Merlin look a little bit like an overgrown bat, but it had been _fine_ , really.

“It’s terrible,” Merlin says, but he’s relaxing in Arthur’s arms, allowing himself to lean back onto Arthur’s chest. He tips his head back. “You only made me wear it so you could laugh at me.”

“I did not,” Arthur says indignantly. “You look very dignified in it.”

It maybe isn’t quite the truth, but it makes Merlin relax further, and Arthur rubs his nose along the back of Merlin’s head to help the process along. He’s tired from the day, from hearing petitions and nodding politely and standing firm when everyone around him is yanking at him, pulling in a different direction. He’s tired of the day; all he wants to do is wrap himself up in Merlin and lose himself in the familiar press and weight of Merlin’s body. He wants Merlin to stop being sullen and angry, wants Merlin to let him in again, to forgive Arthur for whatever slight he felt today, imagined or otherwise.

“Pah,” Merlin says softly. “Dignified.” But he lets Arthur nuzzle him, strokes his hands along Arthur’s arms and curls his fingers around Arthur’s, and that’s enough, that’s all Arthur needs for now.


End file.
